


Insular

by junkster



Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedian RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkster/pseuds/junkster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Penny Dreadfuls are confined to their flat in Edinburgh when Humphrey comes down with something just days before their first Fringe performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insular

Fandom - Penny Dreadfuls  
Pairing - David/Humphrey/Thom  
Word Count - 5000

Disclaimer - I am in no way affiliated with the Dreadfuls. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. No similarity to any person either living or dead is intended or should be inferred.

Notes - Usual choppiness to be expected - I'm really not very good at segues! Also a bit more sappy than I'd intended...

 

Humphrey was there, sleeping on top of the covers of his bed, wearing his jeans and blue t-shirt of earlier in the day. He curled in on himself as David watched, the sheets twisting across the mattress under his weight. There was a trail to the bed that told of his efforts; the shoes left by the door, the coat, scarf and jumper snaking their way across the carpet, the glass of water and unopened blister pack of aspirin on the bedside table, and the glasses that were in peril of being crushed under his arm at any second. Closing the door quietly, David moved closer and lifted them to safety next to the pills, then sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out to touch him. He felt the heat before he'd even made contact, cursing quietly as he stroked damp curls away from Humphrey's forehead.

Humphrey's brow creased momentarily, then his eyes flew open and he sat up sharply with enough force to make himself gasp. He seemed to freeze for a moment as his brain kicked into gear, then he pressed both hands over his face, groaning something unintelligible.

David caught him as he swayed, guiding his head down to his shoulder and rubbing his back gently. "Careful there, Humph, just take it easy. S'only me."

"God, Dave," he murmured. "Dizzy. I think I'm ill."

"Well deduced, mate, I'd say."

Humphrey huffed a small laugh against his neck. "Be nice to me."

"When did this come on? You're really burning up. "

"This morning, I suppose. Thought I'd be okay if I had some aspirin, bit of a sit down. Must've fallen asleep."

"You didn't take the aspirin either, by the looks of it."

Humphrey lifted his head to look over David's shoulder, resting his chin there instead. "No, I didn't. Damn."

"Can you take it now?" David asked, reaching for the pills. "You could probably do with the water."

"Is it cold in here?"

"That's the temperature talking. The aspirin'll help. C'mon, see if you can get these down you."

Leaning against David's side, Humphrey managed to push himself into something of an upright position. His hands shook as David dropped two pills onto his palm, while the water shivered precariously against the walls of the glass as he lifted it for a drink. Reaching out, David put a hand carefully underneath the glass to steady it as Humphrey tried to chase the pills down, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"That's it," he encouraged. "That'll do you the world of good."

Humphrey breathed heavily as he let David take the glass out of his hand, as though that small moment of exertion had expended the last dregs of his energy. He put his head back down on David's shoulder, breaths evening out slowly as David stroked the nape of his neck, and was gone again in minutes.

Waiting for a while to ensure Humphrey was deep enough in sleep, David lowered him carefully back down to the mattress and reached for the covers. He maneuvered Humphrey's legs, always too long for any normal bed, back into some semblance of a comfortable position, and drew the duvet up to his chest.

 

\+ + + + +

 

As Humphrey slept on, David went outside to find out where Thom had got to, leaning against the balcony railings as he pressed his phone to his ear. He scanned the near-empty car park below, wondering why on earth someone had built the balconies on that side of the building with no actual view to be seen.

Thom answered after five rings with his customarily simple, "Dave?", the sounds of traffic evident in the background.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you coming back soon?"

"On my way now. Why?"

"Humphrey's come down with 'flu or something - could do with some help."

"Really? I thought he seemed a bit out of sorts earlier. Okay, well, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. I'll stop at the chemists on the way."

 

\+ + + + +

 

Thom apparently bypassed the chemists, visited the corner shop instead, and turned up with a bunch of bananas in one hand and a multipack bag of ready salted crisps in the other.

"Aren't grapes the usual fair?" David asked in bemusement, holding them as Thom took off his coat and scarf.

"Bananas are way better," Thom assured him, rubbing his cold-red hands together. "Way more nutritionally valuable. How is he?"

David watched as he made a beeline for the bed. "Hard to tell yet, really."

Thom seemed to have no qualms about getting right in there, perching on the edge of the bed and pressing the back of his hand to Humphrey's forehead. He tutted, 'hmm'd, then pulled the covers that Humphrey had kicked off back up to his chin.

"He still feels hot, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I don't think the aspirin helped much."

"When's he due the next lot?"

"Not for another few hours yet."

"Right. We'd better let some people know what's going on, hadn't we?"

 

\+ + + + +

 

They split the names up half and half. Thom went out onto the balcony with his phone while David put the kettle on and sat down at the kitchen table with his list, preparing to call the various interviewers and journalists who were expecting to speak to all three of them the next day. He and Thom had agreed that they would share the interviews half and half, so that one of them would be able to check in on Humphrey every now and then in their free moments.

He found that just about all of the contacts seemed sympathetic to their plight, agreeing that his presence would be enough for their pieces. He made the tea as he talked, absently pulling three mugs down from the cupboard, then realising and putting one back with a frown. He knew that they'd have to get some more fluids into Humphrey sooner or later, but at that point sleep seemed to be the most important thing. He made Thom's - a tiny amount of milk, no sugar, and then his own - slightly more milk, again no sugar, and rang off from his last contact with a forced note of cheerfulness. The only comforting thing about the situation was that Humphrey had been struck down with days before their first performance; he at least would have chance to recover.

As he passed the bedroom, he glanced in to check that Humphrey was still sleeping soundly, then carried on towards the balcony. He saw Thom out there as he approached, lost in thought, his shoulders hunched against the bitter wind that swept past every now and then. Slipping through the ajar door, David moved to stand by his side and handed him his mug, from which the steam swirled horizontally.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly, scrutinising the pale face; the eyes that spared him a brief glance; the small, fleeting smile of welcome.

Thom leant forwards against the railings, folding his arms along the top and twisting his fingers together. He'd given up smoking two weeks before, and so far so good, but his greatest problem seemed to be keeping his hands busy, especially when he came under scrutiny. Humphrey had taken to carrying a pen around with him at all times so that he could pass it to Thom when he started getting fidgety. Thom, always both embarrassed and touched by the gesture whenever a Bic appeared in front of him, had become quite adept at working them around his fingers, though many simply ended up being chewed to death instead. Humphrey, who found the chewing slightly perturbing, had gone out and bought a box of thirty from staples, wanting to be safe in the knowledge that those pens would be cleaner than the ones he'd previously stolen from hotel rooms and other peoples' coffee tables.

"Fine," Thom answered eventually, rubbing his thumbs together absently as he gazed out at the dimming evening sky. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's still sleeping."

"It's weird seeing him like that, isn't it?" Thom mused. "He's always so lively."

"That kind of stillness is never natural for Humph."

Thom shook his head and took an experimental sip of his tea. David followed suit and found that the wind was cooling it quickly; more quickly than he'd realised. It had already passed the point where it would provide them with that familiar scorching heat, so they stood and drank in companionable silence, watching a lone car pull out of the car park below, its lights sweeping across the road.

"You must be freezing," he said eventually, noticing the goosebumps on the forearms that crossed the top of the railings. Thom was only wearing a shirt with his jeans, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. "Do you want a coat?"

Thom shook his head, his empty mug dangling precariously from his fingers. "It's quite nice," he answered quietly. "Bracing."

Reaching out, David hooked Thom's mug off him and set it down with his own on the floor by the door. Taking a step sideways so that he was directly behind Thom, he wound both arms around him and pressed up close against his back. He felt Thom breathe in slowly and deeply, ribcage expanding in the circle of his arms. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to the back of Thom's head and slid one hand up to toy with the buttons at the top of his shirt. He slipped one free of its holding with his thumb and forefinger, then the next, and slid his hand underneath the material to press over Thom's collarbone. He felt Thom's heart pick up the pace under smooth, cool skin and solid ribs and drew in a slow breath of his own. He watched the pale hands grip the railing harder, knuckles whitening.

"Dave," Thom murmured. "Someone might see."

"Let them see."

Thom released his grip on the railings and turned around in David's arms, leaning back and fixing him with an amused, affectionate dark gaze. His partly open shirt dragged David's eyes down.

"We need to keep an eye on Humphrey," he reminded softly.

"I know, I know. He wouldn't mind if we kept each other entertained in the meantime though, would he?"

"If we start, it'll go further, you know that. We're not exactly good at delayed anticipation, either of us. I'm just aware that what the three of us have started...well, it's new, and we've got a bit of a fine balance, that's all. I'd hate for one of us to feel left out. And that includes me, by the way."

"I'd better tell Humph to cancel that holiday for two, then..."

Thom reached out to prod him in the stomach, smiling when David released him with a yelp of surprise. Opening the balcony door, he wagged a finger in warning. "Don't try me, Reed. I do a very good scorned woman."

 

\+ + + + +

 

They decided to make it an early night, with the next day's exertions in mind. David woke up at quarter past two in the morning and lay staring into the darkness for ten minutes, before bundling up his duvet and pillow and heading for Humphrey's room.

 

\+ + + + +

 

They skirted around each other in the morning, both too distracted in thought to strike up good conversation. Thom left first at eight o'clock, and David followed half an hour later. Humphrey slept on.

 

By four o'clock that afternoon, David had answered the question "So where are your partners in crime?" seven times, had two separate lunches with two separate newspaper columnists, been back to the flat twice to ply Humphrey with water and pills, and answered what seemed like a hundred telephone calls on his mobile. He dragged himself tiredly back home, his thoughts twisting together. Had he said anything stupid in his interviews? He knew he had a tendency to run off at the mouth on occasion, a habit that was usually kept in check by the familiar presence of Thom and Humphrey by his side.

Kicking off his shoes as he closed the front door, he took a moment to savour the peace and quiet, hung up his coat on the pegs, then headed for the kitchen. He filled the kettle, pulled down three mugs this time, then went to investigate the quiet voices coming from Humphrey's room.

Standing in the doorway, he found himself smiling faintly. Thom was sat on the free half of the double bed, leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, multitasking like a trooper. One hand held a tatty paperback - 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' - and the other was pressing a damp cloth over Humphrey's forehead. He was reading quietly, embellishing the story ('The Five Orange Pips', by David's reckoning) by assigning different voices to the characters and interjecting every now and then with a thought of his own. Humphrey, though his eyes were closed, was clearly awake and listening. He managed to raise a chuckle every now and then, and the odd responses that were too quiet for David to hear.

"Can I join in?" he asked, pushing away from the door jamb and making Thom jump. "I do a good Ku Klux Klan member."

Thom pulled the cloth away from Humphrey and dunked it in the bowl of cold water that sat on the bedside table, then scooted over to give David some space to sit down by his side. "You can be my Watson, if you want?"

Smiling, David heard the kettle click off. "It'd be an honour! I'll just get the tea."

 

\+ + + + +

 

With no pressing jobs the next day, Thom and David settled in to do some writing instead, aware of the looming deadline for their next radio show. By lunch time, the cabin fever became too much for Thom, and he left to go for a drink with Tom from Pappy's. David abandoned his laptop, made tea for two, and was pleasantly surprised to find Humphrey awake and lucid, his eyes fixed on the patch of grey sky that was the extent of the view from the window. He jumped when David put the mugs down on the bedside table, then waited as they went through the now familiar routine of David feeling his forehead.

"How're you feeling now, Humph?" David asked, wringing out the cloth. "It feels like your temperature might be on the way out, at least."

"Mmm," Humphrey hummed in agreement. "I'm not switching hot and cold now. And I'm bored. Still aching all over though. My eyes ache."

"Should I draw the curtains?"

"No, no, it's okay. They hurt in the dark too. I could do with a new t-shirt or something, though; I think I've saturated this one."

David smiled as Humphrey picked at the top he'd been wearing for the last two days. "Alright, let's get that one off first, then. Can you sit up?"

Humphrey gave it a good go, elbow joints shaking weakly as he tried to help, lifting one arm then the other to get the t-shirt up over his head. He slumped back down gratefully as soon as it was done, that small exertion taking it out of him.

David stood, picking up the bowl from the bedside table. "Just lie there for a minute, I don't want to find you on the floor when I come back."

 

When he returned from the kitchen, he found that Humphrey, to his credit, hadn't tried to move. He watched through narrowed eyes, presumably to dim the pain somewhat, as David retrieved a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

"I think I should..." David began, then trailed off, standing up straight to look back at Humphrey appraisingly. Moving to sit on the bed, he hooked the shirt over the headboard and reached for the freshly cold cloth, wringing it out decisively. "I'm just going to cool you down a bit more, okay? Hopefully it'll help bring the temperature down even more."

Humphrey looked at him with a hint of helpless amusement. "I can do it myself, if you want?"

"You can barely lift your head," David dismissed him with a grin. "Don't tell me you've never been given a sponge bath by a friend before?"

"Something I've often regretted."

"I was considering doing it while you were asleep," David revealed, picking up Humphrey's left hand and pressing their palms together, marveling as ever at the size difference. "But then I decided that might be taking a bit of a liberty."

"I appreciate you giving me the chance to be aware of the humiliation," Humphrey said, smiling as David ran the cloth over the inside of his wrist, over his still too-fast pulse and up to the crook of his elbow. When he reached Humphrey's collar bones, he followed the line of his breast bone down to his navel, then swept back up his left side.

"That is quite nice actually," Humphrey admitted, eyes closing again. "After lying in my own sweat for the last day or so."

"Two days," David informed him. "You've really been out of it for a lot of the time."

"Did you have to cancel all those press things, in the end?"

"No, me and Thom did them separately, shared them out."

"Sorry about that."

"Not exactly your fault, mate."

"Still, tell Thom I'm sorry, I know how much he hates interviews."

"Oh, don't worry. He'll make you pay, eventually."

"You're a constant source of comfort for me, I hope you know that?"

 

Five minutes later, having manoeuvered Humphrey into a clean t-shirt and helped him to swallow some more aspirin and water, David headed back into the living room and found Thom had reappeared and was sat on the floor and engrossed in 'The Adventures...' again.

"Alright there?" he asked, perching on the arm of the sofa. "You weren't gone long."

Thom glanced up from his book, looking at him blankly for a moment as he disengaged from the story before breaking into a gleeful smile, the kind of smile that usually meant mischief as far as he was concerned. "Go and get your cravat," he said. "I've got an idea!"

 

\+ + + + +

 

They waited until Humphrey awoke a few hours later before taking on Thom's plan. It was one which would be beneficial to all of them, to cheer up Humphrey, to keep Thom's easily distracted mind happy, and to stave off the cabin fever.

"We're going to entertain you!" Thom announced, as he and David both entered Humphrey's room in full white shirt, black trousers and cravat get-up. "For one night only, to an elite audience of one, we present two thirds of the Penny Dreadfuls in - Holmes and Watson - The Case of Who Knows What The Fuck's Going To Happen."

Humphrey watched in slack-jawed amusement as they cleared things out of the way from the foot of the bed and beyond, using that space as their stage. He pushed himself to sit up against the headboard, pale skinned and dark under the eyes. His smile, alternately affectionate and genuinely bemused, never seemed to wane despite his condition.

They began with an entirely believable storyline about Holmes (Thom - shrewd, strong, well versed in martial arts) rescuing a kidnapped Watson (David - feisty, intelligent, besotted), the pair of them then following a trail of amusingly over-the-top clues to find the perpetrators of the crime. It took around twenty minutes or so before the story began to veer away from the original plot, and Watson decided to confront Holmes about his being a "foolish smackhead".

What started as a farce rapidly built in tension as Holmes took umbridge, the pair of them circling each other as they became more and more intent on their characters as opposed to the story.

"I can't bear it any longer, Holmes," David declared dramatically, sweeping his arm away as Thom reached out for him. "I can't watch you do this any more. I think I must leave."

"Come come, Watson. Where else would you go? This is our home."

David dropped his head, turning away from Thom and towards Humphrey, his voice low with emotion. Yet another veer of direction. "Your powers of deduction fail you this time."

"We are discussing my medicine, are we not?"

"Medicine, hah! No, we are now discussing something altogether more taboo."

"Whatever has overcome you, Watson? I can see that you are pale, but you seem otherwise healthy..."

David turned again swiftly, hamming it up for all he was worth, darting forwards and clamping both hands down on Thom's shoulders.

"Why are you so willingly obtuse!" he asked, eyes blazing with anguish. "What more can I do?"

Thom's face was a mask of stony calm as he answered, "I do not see it because you do not wish me to see it, Watson. It could not be."

"Could not be? It should be. It must be."

Body tensing as one of David's hands came up to cup his face, Thom glanced to the side. "Be careful, dear fellow. If Mrs Hudson were to walk in, I fear we would be without residence."

"Mrs Hudson has gone to the market," David shot back, "and as she deals with our other eccentricities with aplomb, I do not believe another would startle her greatly."

"John, John, John. I should not be the object of your attentions. You are still young, you are talented, and..." Thom trailed off as he gazed into David's eyes, suddenly faltering. They were barely feet apart. "And I can see from the set of your jaw that you have made up your mind."

"I have left you a great many clues, dear friend. It's a good thing I am not a criminal mastermind, as you seem to be blinded with regard to my actions."

As Thom made to reply, David leaned in and captured his open mouth in a kiss, holding Thom's head in both hands as Thom brought his own up to press flat against David's chest. They melted into it, moving instinctively closer before both simultaneously remembering their audience. They pulled apart abruptly, looking breathlessly towards the bed to find Humphrey gazing at them, rapt, his fingers entwined tightly on top of his drawn up knees.

"Wow," he stressed quietly, voice throaty. "That was...Did you just improvise that whole thing?"

David looked at Thom, whose breathing was still somewhat agitated as he pulled his hands away. "I just...I just got caught up in the character. It seemed natural..."

"I don't recall the book where Watson declared his undying love for Holmes."

"It was always there though, wasn't it?" Thom said, eyes still fixed on David as though he might pounce. "There was always the possibility."

"Sorry, Humph," David said ruefully, "My fault. We didn't plan for it to go that way."

"Are you joking?" Humphrey asked, bewildered. "That was brilliant! You were going for half an hour without faltering!"

"I meant kissing Thom."

"I've seen you do a hell of a lot more than that to him in the past. What's the problem?"

"We just don't want you to think that we're moving ahead without you, that's all."

"It's all so new," Thom added. "Since we sort of made it official."

"Encore," Humphrey ordered softly, shaking his head at their reasoning. At their combined look of uncertainty, he schooled his expression into something that was, despite his exhaustion, no-nonsense. He repeated slowly, meaningfully, "Do it again."

With David faltering, Thom took the initiative, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt and bringing them together more slowly than the last time. They were less frantic now; more familiar. They paused for a moment before making contact, savouring the closeness for promising seconds before closing the gap and reacting to that anticipated spark of chemistry. David wound his arms around Thom's waist, pressing a hand into the small of his back. Thom unclenched a fist from David's shirt and lifted it to delve his fingers into soft blonde hair, letting his other hand uncurl flat until he could feel the quick thud of David's heart beneath his ribs.

"Thom," David murmured against his lips, sliding his hand slowly up Thom's spine.

Thom kissed his lower lip softly when no further elucidation followed. "What is it?"

"Nothing," David answered, voice a quiet whisper. "Just..." he trailed off as he pressed a final lingering kiss to Thom's mouth, then exhaled the answer, a soft breath - "Just 'Thom'."

Thom stroked his jaw as they pulled inches apart, smiling as David opened his eyes and he caught the full force of feeling there. They turned at the same time to find that Humphrey was no longer a part of the scene. He'd fallen asleep, his head tipped forwards at an awkward angle. They stood and looked from him to each other, slowly catching their breath.

 

\+ + + + +

 

The next morning, Humphrey managed to haul himself up to take a shower as Thom changed his bed sheets. He was wiped out by the time he emerged, but insisted on pulling on his jeans and a fresh t-shirt before sitting back down on the bed. Thom sat next to him for a while, bemused at how someone as tall as Humphrey could look so vulnerable, with his knees pulled up, feet bare and curls damp from the shower.

"Feel up to eating something solid today?" he asked, passing him a mug of tea. "You must be starving."

Humphrey thanked him and wrapped his hands around the cup, tilting his head in a so-so gesture. "A bit, I suppose. Not sure I'll manage much, though."

Thom smiled triumphantly as he remembered. "Don't you worry; I've got just the things to tempt you."

 

The three of them sat side by side on the bed for most of the afternoon, surrounded by bananas and bags of ready salted crisps. Thom and David practiced their lines on each other as Humphrey alternated between joining in, nibbling on crisps and dozing. They managed to put off the inevitable conversation for a few hours, until Humphrey awoke with a start at around four o'clock, narrowed his eyes slightly in thought, then asked, "What happened last night?"

Thom and David glanced at each other across him, and David answered tentatively, "Anything specific?"

"After I fell asleep," Humphrey answered, lucid now. "You didn't have sex in here while I was sleeping did you? 'Cause that would just be creepy..."

"Don't worry," David said with a grin. "We made sure you took part, too."

Humphrey laughed at that, the tension broken immediately. "If there are polaroids, I want to see them."

"Well, you'll just have to go and download them like everyone else, then."

"Damn. My first sex scandal and I wasn't even conscious."

"To be honest, if we must be, we were very boring and went to bed. Separately."

"Like we said," Thom added earnestly, "we're not going to carry on with each other while you're incapacitated. If we do this, we do it together."

 

\+ + + + +

 

Three days later, waiting for their first performance of the month, Humphrey stood and waited as David took charge of his cravat. He was still pale; still a little more fragile than he wanted to be, but he was as determined as ever that he would perform his heart out.

David took his time; more time than usual, sliding the cravat under Humphrey's white collar. He smoothed the dark lengths down on either side of the shirt buttons, savouring the sensation of the silk over the ridges of Humphrey's ribs.

"Are you actually going to tie it?" Humphrey asked eventually in amusement. "Or are you just going to keep stroking me?"

David raised his eyes to look at him, smiling in return. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Oh, you know. Life. Us. The show."

"A bit of everything, then?"

"Pretty much. Are you absolutely sure you're up to this tonight?"

"I'm sure. We've worked too hard, and I've been in bed for the last four days. I'm not letting some bastard virus stop me any more."

"That's the spirit," Thom piped up, appearing next to them, fingers tapping incessantly against his thighs. "Proper stiff upper lip stuff."

"Five minutes!" the stage manager bellowed into the room suddenly.

David stood back to admire his work as he finished tying Humphrey's cravat, as Humphrey reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, stretched his arm out, and pushed something into one of Thom's hands.

Thom looked down, uncurled his fingers, and smiled slowly at the Bic looking back up at him.


End file.
